


A Blank Chapter

by LittleMissOddballl (LittleMissOddball)



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissOddball/pseuds/LittleMissOddballl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're a successful magazine columnist working for a top publication company and for an otherwise stingy and tyrannical boss. What's more, you're gunning for a promotion and the only way to get it is to get your boss' rebellious son to write for him again. But you realize that the task proves to be more arduous as you took it to bee Now you have to deal with his regrets and the past that haunts him will come to haunt you too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [Y/N]-Your Name  
> [Y/LN]-Your Last Name  
> [E/C]-Eye Color  
> [H/C]-Hair Color

_It’s hot._

The first thing that pops into my mind as I woke up to the sound of birds chirping and the feel of the sun on my exposed feet beneath the sheets as its rays entered the open window with its flapping white curtains. What time was it? It felt like it’s been ages since I last slept so well and yet your body felt like the entire world was on your shoulders. Groggily, I turn to my side to gain momentum, to at least get to be able to stand up but to no avail, instead, I bring my fingers to my eyes and try to scratch off some sleep.

Slowly but surely, I try to sit up but felt the need to once again bury myself in my sheets as I feel a draft of air against my chest.

_Wait. Draft? On my chest?_

My windows? Open? Knowing myself and the things I dread the most, I would never make a silly mistake like leaving the window open before going to bed. Heck, I would look through every nook and cranny, and lock every single door and window, turned off every light, made sure that the kitchen counter was spotless and the plates arranged neatly, according to colour hue. Then again, after the hectic week and busy schedules coming up and about, even someone like me would be bound to forget something. Right?

Wrong. Something was wrong. I feel the chill again, and my heart beating ever loudly in my chest, my eyes are suddenly wide open.

_“This chill_. _I’m not...n-naked...am I? I never slept in the nude. Ever. ”_ Yet when I looked down, here I was sitting on a white bed with only my underwear and, wrapped around me, a white blanket. I quickly struggle to grab a hold of more of the blanket that surrounded me. This was getting weirder by the second.

Where am I? I look around and what do I see? Nothing familiar that’s for sure. Looking up to the ceiling, I search for that familiar poster I made not too long ago for early encouragement.

It was nothing dainty and nothing too flashy either. It was just a bunch of book papers stuck together with adhesive and scribbled on it, with permanent marker, were the words, “Good morning! Try your best!” It was the best wake up call, but admittedly, a sad one as well.

But here I was, glancing around the alien territory and that poster not being there could only mean one thing: I am, in no way, in my room, nor in my apartment for that matter.

I started to panic. How could I have been in this situation? I close my eyes and try to rack my brain, no matter how painful it still felt.  

_What happened last night? How did I even get here? Why am I here?_

With all the thinking I was trying to do and failing at, mind you, I didn’t even notice a stranger come in the room, and just stood there, staring at me dumbfounded and at a loss for words. Only after a few seconds did he find the words to say.

“Who the hell are you!?” the voice growled with anger and dismay. I on the other hand, snapped out of my reverie and turned to the direction of the voice, shaken and with fear etched all over my face. There, by the doorway, stood a man in his 30’s, slumped shoulders and with a bobbed haircut, carrying two plastics. Now, it was my turn to be at a loss for words as he continued his interrogation, anger now emanating from him.

“I’m not going to ask again! Tell me who you are, or I’m calling the cops!”

I was still at a loss as the door once again, creaked open, and walking in was a more familiar face, suit and all, but I was still too groggy to otherwise tell who it was. All I knew was he too looked panicky and seeing the situation, he started to sigh in disbelief.

“How does breakfast sound, hm?”

_Just what the hell was going on?!_


	2. Mondays Unequal Situations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Y/N]-Your Name  
> [Y/LN]-Your Last Name

If its answers you want, then I think it would be right to just explain from the beginning.

Think of simple mornings and a healthy breakfast. An organized daily life. A successful career.

Yeah.

How about I start from there?

Waking up in the wee hours of a Monday morning isn’t actually my cup of tea, but sometimes, certain situations have that tendency to completely go against what you would have usually wanted and make you go and do the shit you had to do. Today was that kind of day. A kind of Monday, where I wanted to just stay in my warm, fluffy bed and think of nothing but myself, and if I felt like it, just sit down in my living room and read a good book in the process. Unfortunately, for me, and probably the entire world: I had business to attend to.

And while I would love to stay in, which I do so very much, I stared at the poster above me, said my morning prayers and pulled the sheets aside to start my day.

6:45 am I was now fully awake and preparing the usual breakfast. I had just finished showering and my hair, tied to a bun. No longer groggy but I was ridiculously hungry. The sound of a single ring at the end of my fully tiled kitchen told me that brown crispy toasts were ready for the plates. A few seconds later and my coffee too were done. Black, mind you. And on the other end, there I was, in my bathrobe, with a spatula and a pan of eggs sizzling over low fire. Once the eggs were done, I put them on a plate along with the toast and some butter, grabbed my coffee, and sat down to read the morning paper, not minding that I forgot the usual bacon.

7 o’clock in the morning and it was like the entire neighborhood was flourishing with life. From the window of my living room where I stood, sipping the last of my coffee, you could see birds now chirping in the trees lining the streets of the subdivision where I lived in, the sun shining ever so brightly. The newspaper boy passing by my window and heading north signalled that he had just finished his morning rounds and was rushing to get home and get HIS fair share of scrumptious breakfast. The old guy across me waved his good mornings and walked back inside after grabbing whatever was in his mailbox. I waved back and went to my kitchen again to leave my coffee in the sink. I went up, tidied up a little bit more and once I was happy with the way I looked, professional and just absolutely striking,  grabbed my bag, my coat and in a few minutes, I had started the car and left the driveway of my two-story house. Still reluctantly though.

8:30 am. The ride had been uneventful and altogether normal. The same traffic, same view. I could even point out a few cars that would always be part of the daily traffic, like that Black Mercedes, or the sea blue Porsche. A few more minutes and a few more driving I could, more or less, see the building I worked at. Even if I had worked in there since I started my career, it never ceased to amaze me how this building, hovering over the city centre of Tokyo, was the place I worked at. And I probably would never stop admiring the view from down here, although it was just a glass building with about...oh... 20 floors. Before you could actually enter the building itself, you would have to go through a flight of stairs, which meant, aside from being tall, it was also elevated, 2 meters from the ground. Passing the building, you would see people walking in and out, both customers and employees and some even construction workers working on the newly installed windows on the 3rd floor.That was how rich and influential this company was, despite the fact that it was only a company of deranged people who knew nothing but to write and publish magazines, print outs, comics and oh, did I forget to mention award-winning literary books, actors and playwrights.

Yet it was.

A publishing company that worked 24-7, running through schedules and deadlines: Studio Ark Haive.

I pulled over to the parking space reserved for employees and parked my car to the spot I found closest to the entrance and after fixing myself a little more, I hooked on my glasses, plugged in my earphones, a little more fixing, then I left the car.

8:45 etched on my watch and I was walking along the lobby of the vast 1-hectare wide building. It wasn’t even midday but the aura was tense and I could understand why.

Today was the day all works must be sent in and published. And that meant, the week before until today: No one had even slept a wink.

So you could imagine the situation sprawled before me; angry employees with dark bags under their eyes, sipping coffee and feeling crankier than before. Department bosses shouting at department staff, telling them to “get off their lazy butts or else!” and accountants desperate to finish the final bookkeeping. I think I felt an editor or two run past me in the obvious rush to get the final manuscript printed. The playwrights have been typing away at their tablets and acting out their own play in order to perfect each canto, each sonnet. Even the comic artists had their hands full with drawing and layout, complaining they weren’t even half finished.

Now who would wonder why our company is also the most deranged in Tokyo? Certainly not us.

As for me, well, I’m just a magazine columnist that handed in my job ages ago and is now working on a new project.

Why do you think I’m so remiss at the moment? While they were all chatting away during the earlier stages, I was up and working overtime, researching and finishing whatever I had to do.

Not that I had anything better to do, anyway. I entered the office where my workmates were supposedly cramming to get their work done. And sure enough they were, as one of my workmates just decided to jump on me with her frantic face of panic etched all over her face, dark aura emanating from her. Obviously, had the same LDS.

_Last Day Syndrome_

“Where the hell were, you [Y/N]! Where’s your article!? I need it?”

“I handed mine 3 days ago.” Ignoring the girl in front of me, I walked even further inside and approached my desk where all my work stuff had been piled since last Friday. Papers stacked, books in proper order, not a single scratch on the table and my pens arranged, according to the hue. Just the way I left it.

I placed my bag above me and sat down, ready to start working. “I told you, to have it scanned, didn’t I, Rie?”

“You knew I was rushing to a date, didn’t I? I asked you to do that for me!”

Now she was really panicking. My face was still straight, focused on my work and didn’t even bother to look at her right now.

“Not my problem. You should’ve done what I told you. Now look at you.” I looked up to her and the usual pretty Rie was gone. It was replaced by that of an old hag who forgot to shower in...3 months. “You look even more beautiful than usual.” I commented, sarcasm evident in the tone of my voice.

“[Y/N]! This is no time to be kidding around! I have 3 more columns to finish and I have no idea what to do!” “Do I ever kid around? Oh listen, just whip something up. I don’t know. Magic’s your thing.”

I turned back to my work and started typing away. I could tell she was pouting and fuming at the same time.

“Thanks for being such a helpful friend!” she shouted at me with that usual pouty mouth.

“You’re welcome.”

“I hate you, [Y/LN].”

“Aw, I love you too.” I was still typing away when she finally gave up.

“FINE! I’ll go magic and shit!” and she stormed away to her desk pushing others along the way. I sighed and stood up, my head looming from my desk.

“Don’t go pushing Mr. Serizawa now.”

“I DIDN’T!”

_Sure you didn’t. He just felt like the floor needed a hug_.

I sighed once more and returned to my work and started to type away once again, still ignoring my friend’s frantic screams and the commotion still going on in the office and the noise all the way down stairs.

Like normal right? Nothing changed that day. Absolutely nothing. And I think it stayed that way for a few days more. Until situations totally turned my oh-so-organized-and-peaceful life into a messy and hectic Monday.

Not that I care, I really don't.


	3. The Exception of Today

Two weeks since Hectic Hell ended, shit finally started calming down and everything went back to normal. Now, it were no longer angry bosses, but loud obnoxious group of friends chatting over coffee or red bean soup and as usual, not giving a care about the upcoming deadlines. I, on the other hand, was back to being the workaholic I am. Leaving office early to get information and coming home late after finishing my quota. The peaceful life continued that way and nothing changed.

Today was not supposed to be an exception.

I was just getting ready to leave right after I would finish my coffee and pondering really hard on the phone call I received last night.

 

It was fifteen minutes till midnight, when I finally reached my home and had just slumped myself on my couch, tired and too exhausted to even put my bags on the coat rack that I just threw it beside me, when my bag suddenly started to sing my ringtone.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and rummaged my bag for my phone. Looking at the caller, I was immediately awake when I saw that it was my boss.

My boss was calling me. Normally, if he called you, be prepared for the worst.

This couldn’t be good.

Gathering my courage, I tapped on the “Accept Call” button and anxiously put it to my ear. “Good...evening, Sir. How may I be of assistance?”

The voice on the other line took a few seconds to respond and when he finally did, I thought I would faint.

_“There’s always a limit to how formal you can be. We’re no longer in office, [Y/N].”_  He seemed like he was in a good mood, though.

“Formalities are never limited to just in the office, Sir.” He was chuckling. CHUCKLING. “Anyway, Sir, is there something you would like to discuss with me?”

_“There is, in fact. However, I believe it would be best discussed personally; therefore I would like to ask you come early tomorrow. It would also be best discussed without unnecessary ears around.”_

Unnecessary ears? How important was this talk that no one else could learn about it? Nevertheless, an order from the boss was law. Therefore, I agreed to report earlier than usual and after we said our good nights and a few seconds of telling me how his daughter was playing with his hair the entire time, he hung up and I was left to contemplate, feeling scared even, with what tomorrow would bring.

 

I would normally be in office at around 8:45 in the morning where everyone was expected to be. Today, I came at 7:00, knowing my department would never come 8:45 in the morning, let alone 7:00 am. Unless of course, if it was Hectic Hell Week.

I slowly made my way through the lobby, still desert of people and just the guard standing by the doors, and entered the lobby. Anxiously, I pressed the button for the Presidential Suite and the elevator closed.

1...2...3...4...5. I felt like my heart could leave me any moment as the elevator rose all the way to the Presidential Floor. I stepped out of the elevator; feeling even more elated than usual and walked through the red carpeted hallway to the end of it, where the giant mahogany door stood.

I knocked on it and a voice urged me to come in, before I could say anything. I paused for a while and pushed one of the doors.

It had been my first time in the presidential floor and had only heard that the hallway alone made it look like a castle with red feather carpets, paintings on the wall in between giant mahogany doors and lining the walkway, plants in story depicting vases.

Now entering the presidential room itself, I felt like I just visited the White House. It was a simple rectangular office with a visitors’ area, windowless, with only the table and bookcases behind it.

The only other thing that stood out was an old man in a suit, probably around his 60’s with a little girl sitting on his lap, happily tugging on his white beard and him being fairly amused with it. Once he saw me, he smiled at me in acknowledgement and urged the little girl to go play at the couches. The little girl left and I was left standing in utter shock and just naturally nervous. He must have felt my worries as he started to chuckle in spite of himself.

“No need to be nervous, Ms. [Y/N]. Ah yes, that is my daughter right there. She is quite the cutie. Took from me, naturally. “

“I’m sure she did, Sir.”

He paused for a few seconds and just started laughing now. I, on the other hand, was still on pins and needles.

“Aha. There must be a limit to how formal you can be. You can tell me the truth too.”

A few more seconds of silence.

How do you even respond at a time like this?

“They weren’t joking when they said you always had a straight face.” He sighed but looked up to me again. “Alright let’s get down to business.”

Here it comes...

“I’ve decided to put you on for promotion.”

It took me a while to fully register in my mind the words he just uttered to me; words that he, the PRESIDENT himself, uttered to me.

“I-I beg your pardon, Sir? Promotion?”

“You heard me right.”

“But...why?”

“Do you not want it?”

“I do!” I think I said it in an even louder, shriller voice than usual as he suddenly jerked up. I struggled to maintain my composure. “I do...but why out of the blue, Sir?”

“Let’s just say, you have potential.” He stood up and walked to one of the many bookcases and pulled out a familiar folder and started flipping through it. It was our department boss’ evaluation folder. It was just a bunch of papers of how each member in each department had been doing for the past quarter, tardiness, faults and achievements, would always be shown in that sheet of paper.

He started flapping it in front of me. “You know what this is, don’t you?”

“The Evaluation Sheet...from my department boss.”

“The same department boss that just retired two days ago, yes?” Long story

“Yes, Sir.”

“Let’s have a look, hm? Well. Not a single tardy check. Always early in handing in projects and can take on multiple projects at once. Quite serious with her work...oh...OCD, I see.” He smirked at me and I just cringed. Not because I wasn’t. It was because I was. Not that it’s a secret, anymore.

“Quite a good record you have here, be proud.”

“Thank you for the generous compliments, Sir.”

“Now you know why I want to put you in for promotion as head of your department, but mind you, only to put you in. I am not promoting you. Not just yet.”

Now I was curious. I was supposed to do something. Something I had never done before.

“But I won’t tell you why yet. I have only called you in to tell you of your possible position and I am yet to think of the perfect...test...to see if you are...well...worthy.”

The air was silent and all I can hear was the giggle of the little girl behind me still heavily engrossed with the only plant, a cactus, on the coffee table.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. That is all, you may go.” He turned to his bookcases and I said my goodbyes, turned for the door to leave.

“Ah...by the way, this task, is something that may require...patience. And vigilance.”

“I understand.” I turned the knob and left.

 

News of my up and coming promotion soon spread like wildfire, and despite all the secrecy and confidentiality, ears as sharp as wolves were able to nab whatever information they needed

Still...how SHARP were their ears?

So now you can imagine walking through the hallway while being bombarded by questions and congratulations. And let’s not forget the looks of death coming from all four corners of the world.

 

Not that it would ever stop me from my work and everyday resumed as usual.

Besides, the only people that actually mattered now were Rie and Aiba, my friend and co-worker.

Both are my childhood friends that work in the same department. The ones who actually understood me. Sakumiyama Rie. She was your typical pretty girl. Blond. Popular everywhere she went. Everyone’s angel. Blue eyes that shone beautifully compared to my almond coloured ones. I was her complete opposite who knew nothing but work, work, work. I never went out to parties unlike she did, and no one bothered to invite me. So it was no wonder I couldn’t seem to garner up any more friends than I had at the moment. Masaki Aiba is pretty much the male version of Rie who always had that silly smile you could never seem to wipe off him, but could be serious when the situation came down to it.

I felt their presence truly meant something to me when they came over during one of my rare breaks about the news.

“We should totally have dinner after work! Get drunk and party! Our treat!” Rie just unnecessarily jumped beside me, exclaiming in exaggerated joy.

I smirked at my lunch. “Aren’t you just dateless?”

“You trick them into dating you, don’t you pumpkin brain?”

“I don’t need to hear that from you, Airhead Aiba.”

“What’d you call me Plastic Face?”

“Take that back!”

“And here I thought we were in the office and not in some kid’s playground.” This always happens whenever the two of them were together, though I would think that Masa was absolutely smitten with Rie and vice versa.

“But seriously though, [Y/N]. It’s not every day a columnist just gets called by the president and comes out with a promise of promotion. That just doesn’t happen here.”

“I agree with Airhead.”

“Shut it, Plastic Face.”

I had to admit. They were both right. Normally it would be either he found your flaws, he hates your guts, he’ll fire you, or that you had done something to his precious little princess.

Being promoted here was considered a miracle. And so on that note, I decided to give in to this request.

JUST. This. Once.

“You’re going to continue bugging me until I accept, won’t you?”

“Yep!” they both exclaimed in unison. I sighed in exasperation.

“I guess it won’t hurt once in a while.”

“Yes!”

“But no drinking.”

“No!”

“I have work tomorrow. And so do you.” I took a sip of my decaf and started packing my things. “And I happen to have the promotion hanging on my head right now. I won’t screw this up.”

They frowned and Aiba scooted ever closer to me and before I could say anything, took me by the chin and lifted my head so that his face was so close to mine, I could feel his breath upon me. I shuddered internally from his touch.

Being this close, I could see features of him that I never could before. Clear, yet sad but playful eyes reflected my face. The lines on his face formed when he forms the curves of his lips and when he would narrow his eyes. It made me realize, in so long, how mature he had become. My cheeks turned a hundred more shades of red. It was the first time I ever faltered in his gaze.

“[Y/N]”

“W-what?”

“You have bags under your eyes.”

I snapped. “Way to ruin the mood, Masaki.”

“M-mood? Masaki?”

“Yeah. Now let go.” I shooed his hand away and turned my head as quickly as possible so as to hide my obvious embarrassment. Behind me, I hear him whistle in amusement.

“What now, MASAKI?”

“Nothing. Just thought how you’ve gotten prettier, it’s amazing.”

I blushed even harder if that was even possible. “I get it! I get it! We’ll go drinking.”

“Yay! No one’s going home tonight!”

 

And true enough, none of us did go home.

The three of us just drank and talked the night away, reminisced about the past and just simply did what friends did.

“Imagine our surprise when we heard you got the spot!”

“Not yet though.” I took another sip and poured me another set. “I have yet to prove myself.”

“It’s still great though.” Masa offered another set of pork and placed it on my plate.

“Thanks Masa. I couldn’t have gotten here without your help either.”

He looked at me wide eyed, then flashed me a simple smile and chuckled. “Nah. It’s nothing. At least...” He took hold of his glass and took a sip. “...I was part of your world, one way or another.”

I smiled at him then heard a loud thud beside me. I turned and there was Rie, snoring and just completely wasted. I looked back at Masa and we just both started to laugh. I took another sip of my drink. “My world? You ARE my world.” I snickered.

“...I don’t think you get it, [Y/N]”

Now my head was throbbing. The entire room suddenly looked like it was spinning. I had too much to drink, I could barely keep my eyes open. “It’s...true...”

“But Rie’s in it.”

“Of course she is! She’s a friend too!” It really hurt like hell now.

“You don’t get it, I mean...[Y/N]? Oh my god! Hey!”

I thought I heard him talking, but I couldn’t make it out. Everything just blacked out and all I can remember were inaudible sounds and a pair of arms holding me tenderly.

I fell asleep in those arms in a flash.


	4. Testing Time

What can you expect after a show like that? Of course the moment the entire office heard about it, they thought I’d lose the promotion for sure. Even I thought I had become dead meat.

But, it didn’t happen. It had been the first time I had ever stained my sheet and so the president gave me one more chance and let me go.

When I got back to the department, I completely ignored the two bumbling idiots swarming around me in their obvious attempt to ask for my forgiveness.

And while I could probably forgive Rie for making me agree to their stupid plans, I would probably never forgive Aiba. Ever.

The morning after the party I found myself in an awkward situation of being in the room of a stranger who, according to Aiba, was an old friend of his.

What did it matter? I was getting the scolding of a lifetime.

“So you just decided to bring her to my place out of the blue?”

The stranger growled at the poor guy kneeling in front of him. Aiba with his eyes closed, and I with utter and complete confusion. “I’m sorry, Sho! I couldn’t bring him to our friend’s house, her parents will kill us. My home was a big no-no as well...and you know that.” He whined

“I refuse to believe I’m the only guy friend you have. Jun? Ohno? Nino? “ The stranger called Sho, stood up. “For God’s sake Aiba, you could’ve ruined me!”

“I know that. But you were the only guy close by and we were both drunk...so I thought...”

“That’s what YOU thought.” He sighed once again and now turned to me, his eyes, deep, dark.

“Pretty.”

“What?”

“Ah...I mean...nothing.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry for raising my voice all of a sudden. You must have been scared.”

For a second there, he sounded like a little boy, afraid of his parents finding out his breaking expensive china. “I should be the sorry one.” I raised my hand and slapped Aiba on the back of his head. “I didn’t have control over this idiot’s actions.”

“Sorry...” Aiba said, as he caressed the place I hit. “But you didn’t have to hit me.”

“I am very much aware of Aiba and his usual shenanigans.”

He moved to the kitchen and started playing with plates and saucers.

“What are you doing now?”

“Well...” he began not even looking up. “Since you’re here, I’ll make breakfast.”

 

After a hearty breakfast, we left Mr. Sho’s place but not before he gave Aiba another batch of scolding. And although, it was funny how they were so close yet one acted distant to the other, I sort of felt sorry for the guy.

The next day, I completely ignored the two. Save for the times we had business to attend to, I would not give them a single thought, no matter how much they tried.

Not until lunch when their persistence finally got to me and I decided to confront them.

“I felt awful and you guys know it. “ I cringed at the memory of last night and the events that transpired.

Rie gripped my arm and looked me, her eyes starting to well up. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I just wanted to celebrate.” She choked. “Please don’t ignore us anymore.’

“I’m not ignoring you now am I?”

“[Y/N]”

“As for you, Masaki. Y-You s-saw. That makes you an even bigger idiot. “I pouted.

“I TOLD you I didn’t!”

“You’re a liar.”

“...there wasn’t even anything to see.” He mumbled in a tone barely audible.

“That’s it, I’m ignoring you forever.”

“The point is I DIDN’T see ANYTHING.”

“Uh...guys? I’m still here.” Rie grinned sheepishly.

An awkward silence followed. “Okay fine. I get it.”I said breaking the silence. “I’ll let it slide this one time. BUT.” I sip from my coffee and opened my mouth to continue my sentence when I felt a soft tap behind me. I turn to see none other than the president’s daughter herself, grinning at me.

“HI!”

“Uh...Hello”

\-----------------------------------

“Daddy was pretty mean at that time, laughing while I fell from the stairs. He didn’t even help me up!”

“You don’t say...”

“From then on, I would always try to ambush him early in the morning.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Nah, he just laughs when it happens.”

 

We continued walking down the familiar hallway to the office.

Apparently, the little girl now clutching on to me and dragging me by the hand was told to escort me there.

I find myself shivering at the thought of losing my chances for the promotion. I mean it was possible he could’ve changed his mind.

Oh God, no.

The familiar pulse of nervousness pumped wildly in my chest as little hands pushed open the doors.

“I’m back, Daddy!” She ran happily towards her open armed father and clung to him as she was lifted from the ground.

“That’s my girl. Good job, Princess.” Said father ruffled her hair smiling and looked at me. “Good day, Ms. [Y/N].”

“Good afternoon sir.”

He put the little girl down and gestured for her to go play near the dog statue and for me to sit down on the red leather couch, on the coffee table there sat...well...coffee

“I’d like to get down to business as you and I are both busy individuals.’

“I couldn’t agree more.” He grinned at me as if in amusement and leaned in closer.

“I have decided on what you must do in order to prove yourself.”

I didn’t say anything and waited for him to finish his statement. He leans back, still wearing that ridiculous grin.

“You’ve met my daughter.”

“Yes I have.”

“Have you met my son?”

“...no sir. I don’t believe I have.”

He sighed. “Of course not. He’s about your age. And going through a...uh...phrase...if you will.”

“And how does this...-“

“He’s a writer too. One of our own in fact.”

He’s a writer. I racked my brain for a name similar to the president’s but none came to mind.

“I haven’t seen a work with your characters, sir.”

“Oh he does have my name. Not as his pen name anyway. But I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” He looked at me, his grin even wider; a spark gleaming in his eyes. “Okura Shisa.”

 

Okura Shisa. Only a fool would not know of the name; the mysterious prodigy in the literary arts, winning award after award with her work, The Missing Firefly. I read it once, the story of a young firefly in search of truth only to die without ever coming to a conclusion. It was quite heavy for someone at the tender age of 3. However, she pulled it off and moved millions to tears, myself included.

What made her mysterious was the fact that everyone knows next to nothing about her. She would not attend award ceremonies, during signing events there would always be a representative for her, and press conferences would be held with only her statement and no questions were asked. Rumours have been circulating about who this enigmatic writer was, like her works were stolen, revived and sceptics even say that they are works of paranormal activity.

“’Shisa is a woman’s name sir.”

“Pen name. And a really good one too if I do say so myself. Unscramble the letters and you’d see his name in plain view.”

“Letters?” How good was this writer to be able to play with her ...erm...his name?”

“Yes. He had always liked puzzles when he was young. This was just one of the many he had made with me. “He quickly grabbed a pen and some paper and a photograph from his drawer and started scribbling on it. He handed it to me as soon as he was done. “And I would like to ask you again: Have you met my son?” He handed me the photograph. It didn’t take me long to figure out who I was looking at:

Deep dark eyes, broad asymmetrical shoulders, bobbed hair, tall and fair skinned. No doubt about it. My eyes continued to widen in shock the longer I stared at the photograph and the name scribbled elegantly on paper.

“Meet my son. Okura Shisa. Or should I call him...-“

“Sho-niichan!” The little girl popped from behind me.

“...SAKURAI Sho-niichan” He said, his face now breaking into a smile.


	5. The Doting Father. The Rebellious Son. The Adorable Sister

“I don’t understand. And how did you know I knew him?” I was still in a state of shock as I stumbled to get the words out. “I seem to recall saying I’ve never met your son.”

“Ah, but you have. And I consider it my right to know anyone who comes in contact with my company’s hands. Also...”

He moved towards his desk and picked up a remote and pressed it, revealing retractable televisions; CCTV cameras to be exact. A closer look made me gasp.

“...I think it’s just right to check on my son every once in a while.”

“...Right.” He smiled and put down the remote to look at me, his eyes still gleaming.

“Now...this is what I want you to do...”

 

That night, I came home tired and just about ready to collapse on the porch of my home. I shimmied from my work clothes and hit the showers.

 

Getting out of the bedroom bathroom, the first thing I see is my bed with precious contents splayed all over it. I walked towards and inspected it, recalling the rest of the conversation.

“Sir, if I may speak my mind, I don’t think I’m fit for the job you’re asking me to do. Furthermore, if he hands in his work on time, then there won’t be any liabilities...-”

“That boy...” He cut me off. “...he stopped writing two years ago.” He looked at me, as if searching for an obvious reaction. The former gleam now replaced by sadder, sombre eyes. I wisely said nothing.

“He stopped writing...right after her mother died.”

“I’m...sorry.”

The old man just scoffed. “Have you read it? The Difference.” He left the side of table to grab a hardbound book from the shelf and waved it at me.

“The story of a young boy and his anger towards the world and what it did to him after his many miseries. That Difference?”

“He wrote it in dedication to his mother and, in his anger, to me.”

“Despite what you told me, I’m not forcing him to write if that’s not what he wants, sir.”

“I’m not asking you to _force_ him. I want you to give him a _reason_ to write again. The kid hates the world. The kid hates _me.”_

\----------------------

I sighed looking at the envelope. “How could I say no, when the old geezer was obviously desperate.”

_Easier said than done, doting old geezer._

I plopped myself on the bed and closed my eyes.

The ghost of sleep was soon upon me as I unconsciously found myself surrendering to the alluring darkness.

 

The next morning, I was called up again to the office and was given my final briefing for the “test” that was to start today.

Later at lunch with Aiba, I received even more surprising news, which nearly made me spill my food.

“YOU were his Editor?!”

“Hm? Yeah. I told you about it when I got the job, didn’t I [Y/N]?” He chuckled lightly and took a sip. “You weren’t listening were you?”

Now that he mentioned it, I think he did.

But I was as usual, typing away at some article. “Then you can help me. How do you think I should deal with him?”

He scratched the back of his head, pondering. “Hmmm. I can’t tell you anything substantial...but there’s something you need to understand.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s emotionally unstable now. He’s...angry...untrusting...and I think you know why. So please, be careful with him. Take time to...understand him. He just needs someone to understand.’

I could see it in his eyes, the genuine concern he felt for him. I simply nodded, hoping he was assured by it. And I think he was when he returned to me a smile so gentle and compassionate before bidding me good luck and returned to the department office.

 

As soon as he was out of earshot, I leaned back on the leather couch and stared at my steaming cup of coffee.

It would be the first time I would be doing something like this. This wasn’t the usual meeting or interview of a famous person for my articles. This was an entirely different kind of ordeal, the type of ambushed unplanned visit. Around this time I would be running in and out of the office making phone calls typing printing and editing, but no. However, I had to make up my mind. If this is my one way ticket to the promotion then I’d gladly take the ride, no matter how hesitant I seemed to be at the moment.

Steeling my will, I tore my eyes from the cup and moved them to my watch.

Half past 12. The geezer told me to be there by 1:30.

I took one final sip of my coffee, stood up to collect my things and hastily made my way to the exit.


	6. Two Words: Awk. Ward.

I approached the grey metal plated door and stood in front of it. At the top left corner of the door was another metal plate and etched on it was the word, “Ikura”.

This was stupid. I even came with a freaking house gift. What was I? An old lady?

I slightly frowned, one at the fact that he could play with his name as much as he wants, two was the fact that “Ikura” in Japanese meant, “How much?”, and three was how he was as mysterious as the ingredients used to make the four month old cafeteria cheese that never seemed to rot.

_It’s now or never._

I raised my hand to knock when the door suddenly swung open revealing alleged President’s Son in house clothes and with a plastic trash bag in hand. I jerked back in surprise as he stared at me wide-eyed.

“It’s you.”

“Yeah.” He started swivelling his head back and forth in panic. He took me by the arm and practically forced me inside, quickly shutting the door. He dropped the trash bag and stared at me coldly.

“What the fuck do you want, huh?!”

“I...uhh”

Oh shit. What did I get myself into?

“Answer me, bitch!”

Okay, that was it!

“Fuck off!” I roughly shoved him off, sending him reeling backwards to the opposite wall and tripping on the trash bag. “Can’t a girl show her gratitude without being called some whore!?”

“What?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” I didn’t mean to throw it or anything, but how I handed to him the fruit basket I was carrying, it sort of looked like I did.  He continued staring at me. It was getting awkward. “Yeah.”

The heavy silence stayed and he just sighed. “I have got to stop doing that.” He mumbled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He stood up, and mumbled more to himself while dusting off. “I’m sorry you had to see that side of me yet again. “

For a second, I thought I heard the sound of anger and disappointment in him. As if being like that was something normal yet something he wanted to forget. Something he is, but refuses to accept. “Uh-huh.”

He picked up the trash bag. “Well thanks for the house gift, but if that’s all you needed to do, I think you can leave.”

Rude. Vulgar.  Downright mean. Not a gentleman.

I dislike this guy more and more.

How could he be the legendary writer?

“That’s it?”

He looked at me in utter confusion. “What now?!”

“Don’t you think I deserve something along the lines of...oh I don’t know...’Sorry, for calling you a bitch even when you were trying to be nice.’ Or ‘Do come in! You came all the way!’”

That’s right, [Y/N]. Show you’re the boss. “Any of those ring a bell?”

“No.” and shoved me aside. _Shoved me aside_

“You rude fuck.”

He stopped midway near the door and turned to me. “Excuse me? Can you repeat that?”

And so I did. “You. Rude. Fuck” emphasizing on the last word.

He dropped his trash bag and took me by the wrists and led me to his bedroom where he forcefully threw me to the bed. It took a full second for me to recover from the shock of being treated like some ball. “I gave you a chance to leave and you didn’t take it.” I looked up to see him, or his body, hovering all over me, a naughty grin spread through his face. “Either you planned this or you don’t understand fucking English. Must be the former.”

My eyes widened as he started to toy with my garments. I could feel his hands wondering all over me, trying to get rid of my clothes.

I squirm and try to fight my way out of his grasp, but to no avail. His grip was strong and my body was slowly losing its will as he continued his little play, now slowly dipping his head; I could only do so much as close my eyes and wait for my cruel fate to do its job, when I heard giggling.

He was giggling.

“You’re all bark no bite.” He slipped away from me. “Now get out. Before I call the fucking cops.”

I didn’t need to be to be told twice before grabbing my bag and strode toward the door.

But not before grabbing the fruit basket and throwing it to his face. Hard.

I should be on the softball team for that shot.

It hit him dead straight to the face, too.

I was supposed to turn and leave for the wide open door, when I heard sniffling and sniffing from behind me.

My curiosity got the best of me and when I turned, there he was; Sakurai Sho, bawling his eyes out as if he were a five year old child.

Spell awkward.


	7. Two Sides of a Coin

“Easy with that, bitch...ah! Stop that!”

I forcefully dabbed on the wound below the corner of his mouth, making it hurt on purpose. “I would if you’d just sit still. And stop calling me a bitch too. I have a name.” I said, putting down the tweezers and closing the kit. “You’re done.”

He applied the bandage and we continued in silence.

_What is he thinking?_ I wondered. Here I was, properly inside his room and supposedly doing what I was tasked to do. But the fact that this was entirely unexpected just threw all my plans out the window.

“My dad sent you here, didn’t he?” I jerked inwardly. He sure was sharp.

But for him to realize that, proved I’m not the first.

_How sorry I feel for those who were unlucky enough._ I spun around, ready to give a piece of my mind. The words hung on my throat when I saw him in a respectful bow.

“If that’s the case then, I humbly apologize for the doting idiot old man’s antics. “ Oh so he admits his father dotes on him.

What do you expect me to say at a time like this?

“You sure do go hot and cold.” I huffed.

“You’re not the first, as you’ve already realized, and I’m hoping you would forgive any inconveniences. I’ll just overlook this matter, and forget it all together. So please, accept my apologies.”

I smiled inwardly at the same time I beamed at myself for making him succumb to such a humble and willing puppy. I even thought I saw husky ears pop out of his head.

“So you do have a decent bone in your body. But for Pete’s sake, that’s not what I’m here for.”

He raised his head and looked at me questioningly. I grinned at him.

“While it’s true your father sent me, today’s not exactly that day.” I pointed to the basket of fruits sitting atop the tea table. “I told you, I’m here to say my thanks.”

“O-oh.”

_Good. He’s warmed up to me._

“And I know who you are. If you are what your old man says you are...Okura-sensei.”

“Aha. Indeed. I am that Okura Shisa.”

“Got any proof?”

“Proof?”

“Like an upcoming novel perhaps?”

At this, his expression darkened, his mouth twisted to that of a sad note. He turned his head to the direction of his desk. On the tabletop were book, a night lamp and a laptop that looks like it hasn’t been opened in a long time. His frown turned upside down, but the trace of sadness still lingered.

“And here I thought today isn’t ‘that day’”

“It isn’t. It’s just casual talking.”

“Casual talking doesn’t involve this.” I was sort of taken aback by the sudden rise in his tone, but I tried my best to maintain composure.

“Can I not learn anything about the person I once looked up to?”

His eyes remained locked on to the desk so I couldn’t see clearly, but I could tell he was pretty much surprised and was trying his best to hide it. “Don’t act so surprised. I’m a writer too. Knowing you is probably a basic thing.”

I moved to his shelf and picked out one of his books: The Missing Firefly.

“’We hide in masks, away from the world. Because the more the world knew, the more it would shun us out.’ This was the very line that sent the waterfalls thundering down my cheeks. Felt like it was talking to me, for some reason. “I looked at him, his face now contorted in pain. I put the book back and took out an apple from the basket and put it to his cheek.

“I’ll cut us one. “

“You don’t have to do this you know.”

“I want that promotion. And I could learn a thing or two from you, Shisa-sensei. Want this rabbit eared one?” Handing him that apple and seeing him take it without a single retort; I thought I had gotten to him just a little bit.

“Thanks...[Y/N]”

“Hey you said my name.”

“Gotta know the name of my opponent.”

“Oho~ getting into the fighting spirit I see.”

Maybe.”

“Well, Shisa-sensei...” I stood up and pointed to him. “Let the games begin.”

“Right back at you.”

We looked at each other, a grin on our faces. I didn’t know what he was thinking, and my own thoughts were a blur as we continued nibbling on the fruits I brought.

Nevertheless, for some odd reason, we could agree on one thing.

We would be hating every second of it.


End file.
